


Hushed

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: Sansa Stark had no idea how she wound up being friend and lover to Sandor Clegane, only that neither of them is sure how to tell their friends that they've been banging. Days apart, at night they're naked.Modern AU, filled with so much SanSan smut.





	Hushed

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hi, ok, so this was just meant to sort of be a writing practice of smut and things for my current works, but then it sort of grew and turned into this thing I really sort of loved. I heard the song 'Hushed' by Blue Franklin and it sort of sparked a SanSan AU filled with really dirty things? 
> 
> I took a stab. Let me know what you think? Lyrics are at the end. The song is fun, I highly recommend it. 
> 
> Dedicated to Seattle, one of my favorite places, and all of it's goddamn hills. One day, I will defeat you. (I've set this in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, which will shred your calves.)

The worst part about living in Seattle, in Sansa’s opinion, wasn’t the overabundance of coffee shops and faux organic juice detox bars. It wasn’t the pretentious hipsters and their flannels and cultural appropriation. It wasn’t even the ridiculous bands playing in weird venues that Arya was always trying to drag her to; she had no idea who the Vancouver Sleep Clinic was, or why they’d be in an underground factory. 

The worst part about the city was all the goddamn hills. 

She could live with the Seahawks obsession, and the moaning and groaning about lost Superbowls. She didn’t mind all the breweries, even if she preferred wine. She dealt with the rain and chill and the camps of homeless stoners who slowly overtook parks and sidewalks. 

But the hills would be the death of her. 

Of course, they were also why she’d gotten an apartment on top of Capitol Hill, all the way up, providing her with a pretty view of the city and the lake. She liked it up there, and on rainy days she felt like she sat in the clouds. But living at the very top meant climbing, and she’d been an idiot and forgot her cash and Orca card in her other wallet, which hadn’t made it’s way into her new purse. So now she sulked at the bottom of the hill and looked up at it with ill-concealed loathing. 

Maybe she’d be better off trekking back to the homeless camp and staying there. It’d probably be easier. 

“Stark!” A black car slid along the sidewalk, making her jump out of her skin. She pressed a hand to her heart to make it stop racing before noticing the details of the car. 

Tinted windows. All black interior. Bone-white rims. And the concerned face of one Sandor Clegane, peering out at her from his passenger side window. 

“Holy shit you scared me.” She accused him. He didn’t bat an eye. 

“Why the hell are you walking?” 

“Forgot my wallet.” She admitted, taking a step closer to the car to let joggers go past her. 

“Walk all the way from downtown?” He questioned, the eyebrow on the good side of his face raising. 

“Yeah.” Sansa admitted, feeling stupid. She didn’t have cash to call an Uber, nor did she feel like risking the wrath of the transit system for riding without buying a ticket. 

“Get in.” He ordered and she heard the locks click.

“No, I don’t—” She insisted and his eyes darkened. 

“In, Stark. Now.” 

“Fine.” She huffed and slid into the low car. A moment later, the window was back up, encasing her in the quiet interior, and he was heading up the hill. 

Sandor lived in her apartment building. The only difference was that Sansa shared her with three other people, and Sandor had a two bedroom that he had all to himself. It was roughly double the size of Sansa’s, and infinitely nicer furnished. She knew, because she’d been in it for several parties that he’d hosted against his will. 

That was because Sandor’s best friend, Tormund, was dating Sansa’s roommate Brienne. Through forced interactions, Sansa had tentatively decided that she and Sandor might be what others called ‘friends’. They shared a friend group and would go out for beers and watched sporting events together. That made them friends, didn’t it? 

Except as Sansa sat in his car, far nicer than the clunker that she shared with her sister, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. 

“How’d your day go then?” He asked her, lowly, when the silence seemed to stifle them. 

“Good, up until the way home.” Sansa admitted. Margaery, her other roommate, would drop her off on the way to work, but Marg devoted most of her free time to work, and Sansa liked to eat her dinner at home. “I’d have called Arya, but she’s on a four day excursion with a client.” Her wild little sister preferred to spend her time in the wilderness, and acted as a guide for rich folks trying to connect with nature. 

“Brienne?” He asked and Sansa’s mouth twitched up into a smile. 

“She and Tormund jetted off to the mountains, remember?” That was their favorite activity together, besides loud sex that kept Sansa up at night. 

“Oh, yeah.” Sandor muttered, as he paused to let another car descend down the steep, narrow road before resuming the climb to the top. “And the other one, what’s her name? The one who never shuts up?” 

“Marg?” Sansa did smile then. “She’s at a big charity thing tonight. Doubtless she’ll go home with some donor and sleep her way into 12 million dollars.” Margaery was the head of several charities, and excellent at her job. 

“All alone then.” He said quietly, and Sansa shrugged. She could call on her other friends, various people from work and her yoga studio and other neighbors in their building. 

“Nah, today seems like the perfect night to make soup and snuggle in.” She remarked, and on cue, rain began to splatter his windshield. He turned on his wipers and kept up the assent towards their building. The awkwardness began to envelope them again, so Sansa forced out a question. “And you?” 

“Me what?” He kept his eyes on the road, braking hard for a man on a tricycle with purple hair. Neither he nor Sansa batted an eye. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Sansa pressed. 

“Eat. ESPN. Bed.” He said flatly and Sansa bit her lip, then went quiet. Clearly it wasn’t her place to press. After a beat, he said, a little less gruffly, “Stir fry, probably.” 

“Oh, yum.” Sansa said quickly, eager not to return to the awkwardness of before. “That sounds delicious. Do you order in, or cook?” 

“Cook.” His eyes were a cool grey, and when they slid towards her, in the darkness of the car, they were the most distinct feature, instead of his scar. 

“Oh, of course you do.” Sansa remarked and for a second he looked at her with a frown. She gestured to him. Even with joggers and a light raincoat on, there was no hiding the fact that he was 6’10, and muscled like a bull. He often got mistaken as an O-lineman for the Seahawks, but Sansa knew better. He hated football. 

“Meaning?” He asked, as they took another steep hill and Sansa had a moment of pure gratitude she wasn’t doing it on foot. 

“Meaning for you to keep that body, you probably eat healthy all the time.” She stated matter-of-factly and a half smiled revealed his line of neat white teeth. 

“Look at my body much Stark?” 

“How can I not? It’s the biggest in the room.” Sansa retorted, her cheeks hot. When he turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, she imagined how it must’ve sounded and clamped her mouth shut and resigned herself to quiet. 

“So alone all weekend?” He asked her, cresting one of the last hills. 

“Probably.” Sansa frowned slightly. Brienne and Tormund wouldn’t be home, nor would Arya. Margaery would spend the entire weekend off in a haze of glamour, and she would always extend the invitation to Sansa if desired, but a quiet weekend sounded nice.

“Well, if there’s any trouble, you know where to find me.” He muttered, and turned onto their street. Sansa looked at him in surprise, but he was already navigating into the underground parking for their building. He pulled into the nicest spot, and they both got out. The walk into the building was quiet, and the elevator ride quieter. 

“Thanks for picking me up.” Sansa said suddenly, before it reached her floor. 

“Not a problem.” He said, looking at the ceiling rather than her. The elevator was mirrored, and his scarred face reflected several times over around them. It had alarmed Sansa, the first time she’d seen him and then she’d instantly felt bad for reacting that way. 

“Saved me a lot of calf pain.” She tried to joke, but his mouth only twitched. The jolting stop marked the arrival of her floor and she smiled tightly. “Thanks again, Sandor. Have a good weekend.” She stepped out. 

“You too.” He said quietly, as the doors slid closed. Sansa shook off the sense of unsteadiness, and went for her door. She dug through her purse for her keys, then froze when her fingers didn’t clasp onto the little ring of keys and charms. With mounting doom, she dumped the meager contents of her purse out onto the cheerful welcome mat Margaery insisted they buy. 

Chapstick. Old gum. Wrappers and receipts. One lone sock. Loose change, and a ticket to an indie band that Arya had cajoled her into attending. But no keys, just like there had been no wallet. Cursing herself for not being more organized in her haste to get to work on time in the morning, Sansa raked her hands through her hair and tried to figure out what to do. 

She had no keys. All her roommates were off on glorious weekend adventures. She didn’t have a spare key. Wanting to kick herself in frustration, Sansa sank down against the locked door and pulled her phone out of her pocket to text her landlord. 

_‘Hi, it’s Sansa. 415B. I’ve forgotten my key, could you send someone to unlock it? Thank you!’_

_‘Out 4 the night. Can get u in @ 9am tmmw. Srry.’_

She wanted to throw her phone in anger. She tried to think of what else she could do, but short of calling Margaery and ruining her night, or calling a locksmith and paying a billion dollars, she was screwed. Then she sat up straight, overcome with an idea. 

He had said any trouble…

She leapt up and went for the elevator. A few moments later, she was banging on Sandor Clegane’s door. She waited, ignoring the barking from within, until she heard his muffled curses and then he yanked the door open. She tried desperately to keep her eyes on his face. 

He must’ve been changing, since he was down to bare feet and loose shorts, shirtless, with his hair down to his shoulders. Sansa did her level best not to look at the tattooed arms and chest, and especially not think about how chiseled they were. 

“Hi.” She said, when his bewilderment turned to wariness. “So, it turns out, I kinda am in trouble.” 

“What now, Stark?” He asked, using his legs to keep Stranger, his massive black mastiff, in the apartment. 

“I’m locked out, and Chad won’t be back until tomorrow to let me in. Everyone’s gone and I don’t want to pay a locksmith, so…” She trailed off, leaving her intentions lingering with a bright smile. For a second, he was still, then he sighed and opened the door wider. 

“Damn damsel in distress, aren’t you?” He muttered and she walked in, instantly set upon by Stranger. 

“Hello!” She said sweetly, dropping down to envelope him in a hug. “How is my bubs?” 

“Don’t need to break down your door for your dogs, do we?” Sandor asked, as he disappeared into the kitchen. 

“No, Arya takes them on trips.” Sansa explained. Their two huskies, Lady and Nymeria, loved to run through the woods, and so if Arya was taking extended trips, so did the dogs. “Just me.” 

“So why don’t you have anything?” He questioned her, over the sound of him chopping vegetables. 

“I switched purses this morning.” Sansa held up the offending item. It was a deep burgundy, and matched the neat pencil skirt she wore. Her typical one, a more off-white cream, hadn’t gone with the outfit. “And Marg was rushing me, so I guess I forgot to switch everything.” 

“Huh.” He huffed under his breath and Sansa rose. His neat apartment, with it’s minimalist style and tasteful furniture, held no interest for her anymore. She’d seen it all before. Right now, she wanted to know why Sandor was cooking, shirtless. 

“Need help?” She offered. “I know you weren’t planning on cooking for two, and I can always order food and pay you back, you know… Tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” He regarded her with amusement. “Peppers. You chop them, I’ll let you eat.” 

“Deal.” She said instantly, kicking off her shoes and going to wash her hands. Stranger padded after her, eagerly hoping for droppings. 

Sansa prattled on about her day and the latest antics of Tormund and Brienne while they prepared the stir fry. Sandor listened quietly, and never once put on a shirt. Sansa didn’t mind in the slightest. 

“Do you want something else to wear?” He questioned, when she narrowly avoided spilling soy sauce on her blouse. 

“Would that be too much?” She asked, wincing. “I know I’m already eating your food and I came here without asking, and I’m sorry, but—” 

“Quit, Stark.” He said easily, disappearing towards his bedroom. Sansa watched him go, then glanced down at a patiently waiting Stranger. 

“I’m out of my depth here.” She whispered-admitted to the dog, who gave a low woof of agreement. 

“Here.” Sandor tossed a bundle of clothes at her head that Sansa only barely caught. She shook them out and found an old tee-shirt made soft by multiple washing and shorts with a drawstring waist. 

“Thank you.” She said, feeling the soft fabric. “I’m going to go change.” 

“Sure.” He said casually, returning to the stir fry. Sansa went into the spare bedroom, and quickly pulled off her work attire. Pulling on the loose fitting clothes was a relief, and she snuggled into the shirt, noting that the faded logo on the front was that of a brewery. She tightened the drawstrings and knotted them several times, but they still hung on her hips, a little dangerously low. 

“This is so much better, thank you.” She said, emerging. His gaze flickered to her, then quickly returned to the food. 

“It’ll be ready in a second. Plates are there.” He gestured to a cabinet and inside Sansa found several plain plates and clear glasses. She grabbed two of each, setting the table. She grabbed silverware as well, and then napkins. When he brought the rice over, she had a neat setup on the table. 

“Thank you again.” She said instantly. 

“Quit that.” He ordered. “Beers in the fridge. Grab whatever you like.” 

“Oh,” Sansa hesitated for a moment. “I’m fine with just water.” 

“Right.” His grey gaze was warming her skin. “You’re wine, Arya and Brienne are beer. Wine’s that way.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, to the little wine fridge that was built into the island in the center of the kitchen. 

“No,” She protested. “You made me dinner, you’re letting me stay here, I don’t need wine either.” 

“Fine, not for dinner then.” He shrugged. “But I have that moscato you liked so much last time.” 

“Ah,” Sansa glared at him. She had liked the sweet wine at the last party he’d had, and had had a couple glasses more than she should’ve. She was informed, later, that she’d ended the night asleep in Stranger’s dog bed. Tormund had carried her home. “You bastard.” 

“Eat up.” He actually grinned, putting a large spoonful on her plate. Sansa made a face at him, then got her glass of water and his beer despite herself. 

Dinner was an easy affair. They mostly commiserated over Tormund and Brienne’s cooing and lovingness, and laughing over Arya’s antics. Sansa gave him the lowdown on the rest of her family, which was vast and included a mixture of cousins, foster kids, and siblings. He told her, in kind, that both his siblings were dead, and the subject quickly moved to dogs. 

After dinner, Sansa did decide to indulge in the dessert wine, strictly limiting herself to one glass. Sandor laughed and poured himself scotch on the rocks, going to sit on the large, black couch that dominated the living room. Sansa joined him, and Stranger hopped between the two of them. 

“So now what, the ESPN part of the night?” Sansa asked, as he turned the TV on. 

“Yeah.” The channel was already on when the screen lit up. “Unless you want some HGTV or Fixer Upper or whatever.” 

“Excuse you.” Sansa put her nose in the air. “Chip and Joanna are the loves of my life, and I won’t hear anything against them.” 

“Course not.” He smiled as he flipped through the channels. “What then?” 

“It’s your place.” Sansa looked around for a blanket and upon finding none, stuck her feet under Stranger’s butt. He didn’t move in the slightest. “I’m just crashing your solo weekend.” 

“Yeah,” His eyes didn’t leave the screen, but Sansa saw his mouth twitched. “Sure.” 

Eventually, they settled on the Shawshank Redemption, after Sansa shouted about how it was the movie that one had to watch in full whenever it was on. He groaned, but made no move to change it, and on one commercial break, even made them popcorn. 

At one point, Stranger ambled off to his bed, and Sansa was forced to try to use a pillow to cover her chilled feet and legs. Sandor got up to refill his scotch and returned with a fluffy blanket, tossing it at her wordlessly. Sansa grinned and snuggled in, enjoying her third glass of the wine. 

By the time she was on her fifth, she knew she was drunk, but she was too busy arguing about the prison system with Sandor to even care that the movie behind them had moved onto one of the Godfathers. She was aware that Sandor was also a little drunk, because when he was, his words came out faster, less measured, and his eyes sparkled. 

“It’s corrupt, it’s all corrupt, the prisons, the government, all of it.” She rambled. “Bush did 9/11 and all that shit. It’s all a coverup!” 

“From what?” He asked her, watching in amusement. 

“The lizard people.” She insisted. “Illuminati. The new world order and that shit.” 

“Alright.” He laughed, and set his empty glass aside. “To bed with you then.” 

“No.” She protested flatly. “I’m fine!” 

“Are you?” He raised an eyebrow and she sank deeper into the couch to prove her point. 

“Never better.” She nearly spilled her wine while rolling over. “You worry too much.” 

“In my defense, you’re easy to worry over.” He stated and Sansa frowned at him. 

“Am not.” 

“Says the girl that forgot everything she owns just because she wanted her purse to match her outfit.” 

“It’s important!” 

“Bed, Stark.” 

“No.” She groaned. “Leave me here.” 

“You’d rather sleep on my couch than a queen sized mattress that you can pick your settings on?” He reminded her. 

“Yes.” Sansa glanced up at him and he sighed, exasperated. 

“Why the hell?” He demanded. 

“Beds are too big.” She said quietly and that made him sit down. 

“What the hell does that mean Stark?” He questioned and she paused, gathering her thoughts. Then it all spilled out. About her shitty ex-boyfriends and all the shit they’d put her through. About how, growing up, she’d always had her various siblings around her. She even explained to him that after such awful dating, she’d dated girls to see if that was any better, and upon finding it wasn’t, sworn off dating all together. When she finished, even her drunk brain knew that was too much. 

But instead of laughing or mocking her or trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with her, Sandor calmly told her about the girls who’d wanted him for his body, and loathed him for his face. Or, about how later, they wanted him for his money and material things. About how he’d never been in a serious relationship before, because it could never last longer than sex. And Sansa found herself practically sitting in his lap, his arms around her and her head on his chest. 

“To shitty love.” She raised her nearly empty glass. 

“I’ll finish that for you.” He said in amusement, taking it away from her. “I’d rather you not throw up in my bed.” 

“Your bed?” Sansa frowned slightly. 

“If that’s alright.” He said carefully. “I figured you wouldn’t mind, you know. Not for anything like that, just, you know, the two of us. Together. Sleeping. Not sleeping together, but just, you know, it’s comfier than the couch and if you like when—” 

“I know.” She reached up and vaguely patted his burned cheek. “I know Sandor. Let’s go to bed. I won’t even make you cuddle.” 

“Alright.” He scooped her up and carried her off to the bedroom. He deposited her amongst the silky grey sheets, tucking the fuzzy blanket around her, and left her a glass of water on her bedside table. Then he crawled in on the other side. 

“Come here.” Sansa muttered, breaking her earlier promise. He carefully slid towards her until she was nestled into his side in the middle of the massive king sized bed. 

“You alright?” He whispered and her limbs were heavy with wine and sleep. She’d never been so comfortable before in her life and let out a sigh of contentment. 

“Perfect.” She muttered and his hands drifted over her body, like he wasn’t sure where to put them. When it landed on her back, Sansa felt a tingle of something that wasn’t the wine. She pressed closer to him and was rewarded with an ache. She shifted, curious, trying to figure out what it was. 

When his hand brushed her hip while he waited for her to accommodate herself, she recognized the jolt for what it was. Arousal. It was only natural, she tried to soothe her alarmed self. She was rather drunk, in bed with a very attractive man, and she hadn’t been laid for the better part of a year. It was a body’s involuntary reaction. Still, when she pressed her legs together, the ache only intensified. 

“Comfy?” He questioned, when she shifted yet again. She wondered if it would get better if she moved away from him, but every fiber of her body was telling her to do the opposite. 

“Uh, yeah, just…” She trailed off, unsure of what there was to say about it. She couldn’t tell him the truth. “Um, I take a long time to… Fall asleep.” 

“Can I help?” He asked and Sansa’s cheeks were hot. 

“No.” She squeaked. “Sorry, if I’m bugging you, I can go back to the couch.” 

“You’re not bugging me.” He rubbed her back, trying to reassure her, but it only made Sansa want him desperately more. 

“It’s just, you know, I feel like…” She trailed off, clamping her big mouth shut. 

“What?” His tone was filled with concern. 

“Horny.” She blurted out and he pulled away, alarmed. “Sorry! I’m a chatty drunk, Marg always tells me so, but it’s just… I haven’t been in bed with a guy in ages! My body thinks it’s something that it’s not, and the wine and…” Her head was starting to pound. 

“Hey, no big deal.” Sandor attempted to sound light hearted. “And I was worried you’d see my morning wood.” 

“Oh, god.” Sansa tried not to think about anything being said. “I’m so sorry this is so weird. I fucked it all up, didn’t I?”

“No, no, no.” He said quickly. “It’s fine, we’re both, you know, youngish, and it’s a thing that happens. It’s not weird. We’re just… Friends, and things happen.” He sounded almost… Hopeful? Sansa paused and then carefully rubbed his arm encouragingly. 

“I mean, it’s not a big deal.” Sansa said quietly. “It’s nothing.” 

“Sure.” He gave a little shrug, but his hands were going lower down her hips and she shifted so that he had easier access. “Nothing.” 

“Wait.” She stilled his hands after a moment, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. “I just… I don’t want to come off like I’m using you! You just, you know, told me about how you had all these awful woman use you and I don’t want this to be that!” 

“Would it be?” He asked, his voice soft and unsure. 

“No.” Sansa said quickly. “I want you to want this as much as I do.” 

“I do.” He said quickly and so Sansa turned up to him and her lips sought his. 

It was rather strange, to kiss him. His scarred lip was not unpleasant, just a different sensation and after a moment, Sansa found she liked it more than any other kiss she’d ever had. She eagerly went for more. 

He responded just as intensely. His fingers threaded through her hair and pulled her closer. Sansa climbed atop him, working to untangle the blankets around her hips. Sandor did the same and after a minute, both of them were free. 

Sansa pressed her hips into his and he responded with a low moan and buck upwards. Sansa felt his arousal and bit his lip in approval. After a second, he flipped her onto her back, going for her throat. Sansa couldn’t do anything but moan in approval as he sucked her earlobe. 

“Fuck me…” She whispered and his hands tightened on her ribs. 

“Say my name.” He ordered her, lowering himself from her neck and going for her collarbones. 

“Please, Sandor.” She pleaded, as he removed the soft teeshirt, then her bra. “Please, Sandor, please…” 

“Alright.” He growled, yanking at the shorts. They slipped off easily and for a moment, he looked at her in what looked like alarm. 

“What?” She asked, taking a deep breath to make her world stop spinning. 

“You’re too damn skinny. Do you need more food?” He demanded with concern and Sansa felt like laughing. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll have leftovers if it makes you happy.” She teased. “Alright?” 

“Alright.” He said, then began kissing down her stomach. Sansa twisted, trying to get him to go lower still. “What it you want?” He asked, his voice low and silky. 

“You.” She gasped. “I want you Sandor, please. Please!” 

If she had liked kissing his scarred mouth, she loved the other things it could do. She was drunk, in a friend's bed, locked out of her apartment, and likely screwing up a friend group that Brienne had created through sheer strength of will. None of that mattered, however, when Sandor went down on her. It was heavenly, a mixture of rough and gentle, smooth and harsh, all at once. She wasn't sure if it was the lack of sex she'd been having that heightened everything, but she was on fire, she was sure of it. 

She kept calling his name out, and found herself always rewarded when she did. Just when she thought she was going to come undone, he pulled away and she was left, keening and gasping, hands frantically reaching for his head to return it where it belonged. Which was squarely between her thighs. She was shaking, and his smirk was visible even in the low light of the bedroom. He caught her hands and held them above her stomach, just out of reach of anything. She tried, desperately, to find her release. 

"You're not going to sing for me yet little bird." He crooned and Sansa was gasping her frustration. 

"Fuck... You... Please, Sandor..."

"Soon." He kissed a hipbone and Sansa twitched fiercely. 

"What then?" She panted and he gently raised her hands above her head, holding them easily with one large palm. Then he used his other fingers to slowly run up her slit, no more than just the tips on his fingers. Sansa wriggled, trying for more contact. "What do you..." Words were difficult when he was doing these things to her. "Want me... To do?" 

"Just this." He whispered and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were alight in the night and Sansa pressed up to kiss him. That pleased him and he slipped just the first knuckle of his middle finger into her. She kept kissing him, finding that when she did, he granted her more pleasure. Thus began a battle of their tongues and though Sandor won that fight, Sansa's climax felt like she won the war. 

"Holy hell." She muttered, when he released her hands and leaned back. She was boneless, limp and content, but something still ached, lower and deeper even after her release. Sandor was making to move away, and Sansa was very certain that was the last thing she wanted. So she reached up and pulled him back to her, kissing him deeply. 

"You don't have to." He murmured, when she went to kiss his neck. 

"Do what?" She leaned back, confused and he gestured to his face. 

"Kiss this." There was a touch of bitterness there and Sansa was confused. His scars weren't that bad really, now that she'd became accustomed to them. It was no different than Brienne being 6'4 or Tormund's wild red beard. It was a trait of his, one that took a moment to adjust to, then moved on from. 

"Why wouldn't I?" She reached up and rubbed a thumb over it. "Now tell me, what do you want me to do?" 

"What?" Now it was his turn to look at her in confusion. 

"How do you, want to, you know... Fuck me?" The coarse language made her cringe a little, but she wasn't sure what else to say. They weren't making love, were they? It was fucking, plain and simple. 

"Hell." He muttered, startled. "I thought you'd..." 

"What?" Sansa questioned him and he leaned back, biting his lip and avoiding her eyes. 

"I thought I'd... Please you... And then you'd... Go to bed." He admitted and Sansa shot up, both offended and annoyed. 

"No! I said I wasn't using you! You said you wanted this?" She demanded. 

"I did." He said instantly. "I wanted to get you off." 

"And you thought I wasn't going to get you off too?" Now Sansa was annoyed, huffing and crossing her arms across her chest. She noticed, with a growing sense of pride, how his gaze was drawn there. 

"Well... Yeah." He said lamely and Sansa remembered his words from before, about the women who didn't want him, truly. Just his body, or his money. Sansa had tried to say she wasn't one of them, and he hadn't believed her. So there was a more practical route. She would have to show him. 

Easily, she snagged the waistband of his shorts and yanked it down. His cock came free and Sansa couldn't help her peep of shock at how big it was. Of course, it was all very proportional to his body, but compared to her, it seemed too large. However, she was never one to back down from a challenge and so she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his astonished mouth. It didn't take much to flip him onto his back and have him under her. Then she pulled back with what she hoped was a seductive smile. 

"Tell me exactly how you want me." She ordered, putting her hands on her hips and jutting her chest out. She hoped it looked alluring, as it felt ridiculous. When she chanced a peep at Sandor's face, he looked throttled. "Sandor Clegane." She squeezed her legs tighter around his hips. "Tell me how you want me to fuck you. Because I am not going to bed until I've had a chance to have that wonderful cock inside me and-- uff!" 

He'd managed to somehow lift her up and off the bed before she could do anything but exhale. He carried her out of the bedroom and back into the living room. For a second, Sansa's head spun with all the possibilities. The table in the kitchen, where he'd lay her out like a feast? On the counter, where she'd be spread for him? On his couch, in a different position every moment? She didn't know what to expect. 

For him to set her on her feet in front of the massive glass french doors to the outdoor patio certainly wasn't it. 

They didn't have such a balcony in their apartment. Their's was much smaller, and usually filled with Arya's camping gear. Sandor's was wide and spacious, with a small grill, a couple chairs, and a few tables. Sansa had sat outside at one summer party and drank, enjoying the sounds and sight of the city. That had been a fun party as well, but now she could only think about what else she could do out there. 

"I want to fuck you where everyone can see." He muttered, voice low and dark like his whiskey. He was backing Sansa up until she was against the glass door, her flushed skin cooling when she came in contact with it. Faintly, she could tell it was still raining, splattering the glass behind her. Logically, she knew that the weak light in the apartment, combined with their height and the lateness of the hour, meant that no one would look up and see her white ass against the window. Still, as Sandor pressed against her, the idea that someone might thrilled her. 

"Please, Sandor." She was back to begging, hiking her leg up around his hip and with the ease of lifting a pillow, Sandor had her up in his arms. She dragged her nails across his shoulders and kissed him again. 

"Are you sure?" He asked her once again and Sansa responded by biting his earlobe and ordering, in as straightforward a manner as she could, 

"Sandor Clegane, if you do not fuck me this very instant, I am going to fuck you." 

With a growl and a groan, he had his tip pressed to her. She groaned her assent again, and then, with a slowness she didn't know could be so sweet, he eased into her. She was grateful it wasn't rough or aggressive, since she wasn't sure how well she could've taken him. But once she was completely filled with him, he was very still, fingertips digging into her thigh and hip hard enough to bruise her. The idea that his marks might still cover her in the morning made Sansa dizzy with arousal and she kissed him. 

"Fuck." He whispered, strangled, on her lips. 

"Please." She answered back, kissing every inch of him she could reach. "Sandor, please. I want you, god, so bad. Sandor. Sandor, Sandor, please, oh, please, I need you, I need you Sandor..."

He thrust and grunted, and she swallowed his moans with kisses. His arms held her in place, and her back arched against the smooth glass. She wondered if anyone below knew, or saw. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and kissed him again, calling his name out, until she could only hold on tightly to him and keep repeating the same praises. When he shuddered and buried his face in her neck, she ran her fingers up into his hair and held him there. She was hardly drunk anymore, and she knew that this moment felt very, very right. 

"Sorry." He muttered, as he gently put her down. No sooner had the balls of her feet touched the hardwood than he was gone from her, leaving her sagging against the glass and grasping for nothing but air. He was darting to the kitchen, opening a draw where he retrieved a towel. "I shouldn't have... Have... In... You." He said brokenly and Sansa was aware, then, that they hadn't taken proper precautions. He handed her the towel, which she took in a daze and realized it was to clean herself up. He didn't look her in the eyes. 

"It's not a big deal." She blinked several times, then unstuck herself from the door. "Brienne always has a stash of Plan B in the bathroom. I can steal some in the morning." 

"Ah." He didn't seem to know what to do, so Sansa glanced behind her and then offered, trying her best to be polite, 

"I can wash my ass prints off in the morning." 

"What?" He looked at her, aghast, and Sansa burst into laughter. She couldn't help it. He looked so shocked at her words, but she had really meant them. It would've been rude to leave her ass mark on the window for everyone to see, and she was sure he wouldn't want to explain it to anyone that walked in. 

"I'll wash it." She promised.

"Don't fucking wash it." He ordered, tilting his head slightly. "I like it." 

"Why?" Sansa asked curiously and he studied it rather than her, before muttering, 

"Memories." 

"Oh." She gently ran her fingers along the marks his hands had left on her hips, holding her up. She understood that. "Well... Now what?" Her question hung heavy in the air. 

"You can sleep wherever." He seemed defeated, for some reason. "I'll take the couch or the spare bedroom or--"

"Are you kidding me?" Sansa cut him off, tossing the dirty rag to the ground. She'd deal with that in the morning too. "This whole thing started because I don't like being alone in bed. And now I sure as hell don't want to be alone. Take me back to bed. Please." She added, on afterthought. 

"What gives Stark?" He demanded suddenly, looking up at her with bright grey eyes. "What do you want from me?" 

"I don't know." Sansa answered back honestly and he snarled, looking away from her. "Hey! Don't do that! I don't know what I want because I don't even know what this is! But fuck, you're the best lay I've had, ever, but you're Tormund's friend and sort of mine too, and I don't know what the hell any of this is anymore because before this started, I was drunk, and now I'm not, and you're still--" She gestured frantically to his body. "Turning me on! God!" 

He stared at her, mouth agape, and Sansa was struck by him once again. Tall, muscular, and well hung. He was darkly funny, and wickedly sarcastic, and the few times before this they'd spoken one on one, she'd enjoyed him. To say she wasn't attracted to him was a lie. But if she'd ruined something that hadn't even begun yet, she wasn't sure what she was going to do. 

"All our friends would hate it." He muttered, avoiding her look. 

"I don't care." She responded, defiant. He was different. He was special. She was keeping him. "They don't have to know." 

"Alright." He looked at her then, surprised like he wasn't sure this was going to work. "Then..." 

"Then you're going to fuck me again." Sansa decided, crocking her finger and leading him towards the bedroom once more. 

 

 

Sansa collapsed on the couch, grumbling. She'd had a shit day at work, complete with getting yelled at, vaguely sexist remarks, and plenty of attitude from all involved. She wanted to sleep or drink or something else, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she wanted to forget about how awful her day was, but her roommates were in full force in her apartment. 

None of them had asked her about her weekend with Sandor, save a cursory question about what she'd done. Sansa had been quiet, listening to Margaery detail her exciting evening filled with champagne soaked glory. Arya had made them all bust their guts laughing with her stories about an unwitting client mistaking a raccoon for a panther, and Brienne had sent them puzzling if Tormund was going to propose or not. In comparison, the fact that she'd spent the entire weekend with Sandor, even after she'd been let back into her apartment, didn't seem important. 

Besides, it was rather fun keeping this thing, whatever it was, from everyone. It was strictly theirs, and despite the fact that they'd only texted each other a couple times in the week and a half since they'd locked themselves away and proceed to bang on every available surface, was of no matter. Sansa liked him. She liked him a lot. He'd been on her mind constantly since she'd sadly walked back to her apartment on a Sunday afternoon, and as she tried to forget about how awful her day had been, she idly spun her phone and wished for him. 

"Hey, your phone is buzzing." Arya tossed Sansa her phone as she darted from bedroom to living room to kitchen to bathroom to closet to entry to god knows where, a tornado of energy and disorganization while the dogs followed in glee. Sansa caught it, about to yell at Arya for flinging the fragile thing around like it wasn't worth more than anything else she owned, but all anger died on her lips when she saw it was a message from Sandor. 

_'Out of coconut oil. Got any?'_

She stared at the phone, blinking several times to try and understand the text. It seemed innocent enough. He was just a neighbor needing ingredients to make something. He wasn't trying to seduce her or imply anything sexual. He just wanted coconut oil to cook something. 

_'Let me check!'_

She darted for the kitchen, throwing open the cupboards. The only one who actually cooked was Brienne and Sansa had no idea if she had coconut oil. She checked through jars and spices, until she came upon a half used plastic jar of the white oil. 

"Ha!" She yelled in triumph, holding it up. Arya, on her second scavenger hunt through the closet, stopped and looked at her quizzically. 

"Why are you taking Brienne's coconut oil?" She demanded, while Sansa ignored her. 

"Brienne!" She yelled, over the blaring music coming from Margaery's room. "I'm taking your coconut oil!" 

"Ok." Brienne opened her door, her concerned face popping out. "Do I get to ask why?" 

"I made friends with one of the older ladies downstairs." Sansa lied. "She called and asked for some. I'm going to go run it down to her." 

"Oh, sure." Brienne looked at her with suspicion. "Yeah, ok." 

"When did you make friends with the nags downstairs?" Arya went past with grappling gear and Sansa paused, frowning at her. 

"When I was nice and polite and didn't call them nags." She said, as Arya added it to the pile she had going near the door. "What the hell are you doing?" 

"I," Arya was panting slightly. "Am about to undertake the most challenging client yet. Gendry." 

"Gendry?" Brienne's frown was turned on Arya. "You mean the hot cop who wouldn't let you talk your way out of a parking ticket?" 

"Arya!" Sansa scolded.

"I called him a ninny. He called me a punk. I called him a city slicker, he called me a brat, and now we have a date camping this weekend." Arya beamed, supremely proud of herself. "I have to make it epic though." 

"No more parking tickets." Sansa ordered Arya, running for her room. She had to do the same. This wasn't a date in the strictest sense, but it was the first time she'd seen him since that weekend. She wanted to look good. But any outfit change would arouse suspicion on her roommates part, so she settled on through a comfy sweatshirt on over the leggings and braiding her hair. 

 

_'Sure. Unlocked.'_

_'Ok!'_

She made sure to grab her keys on the way out, dashing for the elevator. Feeling slightly giddy, she hit the button for Sandor's floor and danced in the elevator, beaming, clutching the jar of coconut oil. She took a second to try to smooth out her appearance before arriving on his floor and walking to his door, stomach fluttering frantically. She knocked then entered, holding the coconut oil like an offering. 

Again, he was standing behind the counter shirtless, cooking, was Sandor. He looked up and raised an eyebrow. Sansa felt like melting into a puddle of goo at his feet, but refrained and tried to give him a seductive smile. He gave her a slight smile in return, then looked pointed at the jar and she started, walking forward, holding it out to him. 

"Hi." She said, a little breathlessly. "Here's this. Sorry, it's Brienne's. Do you need more? What are you making?" 

"This is great, thanks." He took it from her with a slight chuckle. "It's plenty. I'll buy Brienne more if she needed it. And green curry with brown rice noodles and swiss chard." He took the coconut oil from her, gesturing to the arrangement of items. 

"Sounds great." She hovered, unsure of what to do. "Well, let me know if you need any more, otherwise I can just swing by another time and pick it up." She gave him a little smile and began to walk towards the door. 

"Stark." He called, with a tinge of amusement in his tone. She turned, looking at him as he stood amongst his ingredients. "Get your ass over here and start chopping." 

"Alright." She agreed happily, going to wash her hands. 

As they got their dinner ready, they chatted. Sansa eventually confessed about her shitty day and everything that had happened, making Sandor frown slightly. In response, he explained, after a moment of hesitation, that he had been busy at work and today had been the first day that he'd had a moment to breathe. He admitted, with a slight blush, that he was glad she was free to stay. 

The curry was amazing, and Sansa had two helpings before she sat back, groaning, declaring herself stuffed. He watched her with amusement, then began cleaning up. Sansa instantly went to help, gathering items up and setting them in the dishwasher, chatting about Arya's upcoming date and what little she knew about it, but explaining that for Arya to be on a date was remarkable at all.

"She just thinks that any casual dating is a waste of time." Sandor remarked and Sansa stopped, staring at him in surprise. 

"And you know that how?" She demanded and he shrugged, putting away his spices. 

"We've talked. She's been around for a party or two. Loners sort of find each other." He retorted and Sansa blinked. She had no idea that Sandor even knew Arya existed and vice versa. 

"Oh." Rather dazed, she opened a cupboard at random, glancing inside. A slow smile uncurled across her face when she spotted the full jar of coconut oil inside it. She closed the cupboard quickly, turning to him. "So." 

"So?" He glanced at her, putting the last of the leftovers in the fridge. 

"Got any other plans for tonight?" She asked, emboldened by the sight of her jar on the counter. He'd made an excuse to see her, she was sure of it. He wanted her too. She didn't even care if it was just for sex, as long as he wanted her. 

"Just TV." He said, shrugging. "Think that'll cheer up your blues?" 

"Yup." Sansa said, going for the couch. "Let me give the girls an excuse about why I'm not home though." 

"Why, were do they think you are?" He questioned, as Sansa sent a lie to the group message about sticking around for tea. 

"The ladies downstairs." Sansa glanced up at him and his head tilted. 

"Didn't tell them about me?" He questioned and Sansa raised any eyebrow in retort. 

"Have you told yours about me?" 

"Alright, move over." He ordered and she scooted aside. Stranger wandered out of Sandor's bedroom and jumped up next to her, laying his head on her legs, sniffing eagerly at the scent of Lady and Nymeria. Sansa settled in between Sandor and his dog, watching in contentment as Sandor flipped through movies and TV shows on his Netflix account, his eyes occasionally sliding over to her. 

"Ooh, let's watch that!" Sansa squeaked, when he went past a romantic movie. His disbelief grey gaze fell upon her. 

"Hell. No." He said flatly, skipping ahead to the section filled with gore and action. Sansa pouted. 

"Why not?" 

"You're really going to come in here, eat my food, and take over my TV?" He pointed out. 

"Hey! I contributed coconut oil!" 

"It was Brienne's!" 

"Yeah, and you have your own in the kitchen, when means you came up with an excuse to get me here." Sansa blurted out her secret and then stopped, apprehensive that he was going to be angry. Sandor just evaluated her with his calm, contemplative gaze, before setting aside the remote. Sansa tracked it, wary that she'd overstepped. 

"Then you know why you're really here." He said evenly and Sansa blinked, unsure of which way this was going to go. 

"You're going to strip me down and fuck my brains out until I can't walk straight?" She asked hopefully. 

A moment later, she was beneath him and he was tugging her sweatshirt off like treasure lay beneath it. Sansa gasped at the sudden change but responded in equal gusto. She went straight for his shorts, wanting to free the object of her desire. When he finally kicked them off, Sansa decided it was time for a role reversal of what had happened before. She squirmed and he instantly stopped. 

"You ok?" He asked in concern, a stray lock of hair put back in place by his gentle hand. 

"Yeah, just, flip over." Sansa ordered and a little confused, he did as told, until he was sitting on the couch, naked as the day he was born, watching her with dark, glittering eyes. 

"Little bird?" He asked quizzically, but Sansa stripped down, tossing her clothes aside. 

"There." She said with some satisfaction, kneeling in front of him and gently pulling his knees apart so that she could slide between them. He tensed as her hands began to stroke his thigh. He was already hard, and Sansa gave him an appreciative look before lowering her head. She kissed down his chest, taking her time at his sensitive hipbones, while still tracing her hands up and down his thighs but never getting close to his balls or his shaft. He kept groaning and thrusting slightly, until he was panting. 

"Fuck, little bird. Please. God damn it woman, fuck me." 

"I will." Sansa promised. "But first..." Then she took the tip of his cock in her mouth, gently swirling her tongue and was rewarded with the most primitive noise she'd ever heard. She wanted to moan in return, knowing it was her that was turning him on, eliciting such a response. She dipped deeper and his hands slid through her hair, fingers digging deeper into her skull as he tried to press her down. Sansa refused, taking her time to memorize every detail of his silky skin and how he tasted in this moment. 

"Please." He sounded vaguely lost, like he didn't know what to do. "Fuck. Sansa, please. God." She kept sucking, determined to do to him what he'd done to her. She felt him grow harder and his moans became more erratic, until he gasped suddenly and she pulled away instantly, leaving him writhing. His eyes snapped into focus, looking at her with both desperation and fury. 

"Not yet." She told him and when understanding clicked, he growled at her, grabbing her neck. 

"You're playing a dangerous game here Stark." He warned her and Sansa licked him from balls to tip, making his anger fade instantly. 

"I like it better when you call me Sansa." She whispered. "I like when you say my name when you fuck me, Sandor."

"Don't want to pretend it's someone else?" He demanded and Sansa's heart broke slightly, wondering who had hurt him so badly. 

"No." She said fiercely, grabbing his and working to pump him slowly, gazing him directly in his eyes. "I want to see that it's you inside me. When I come, I want to shout your name. I want to fuck you, Sandor Clegane. You're the only one I want to. You're the best goddamn lay I've ever had, and I sit and wait for your name to come up on my phone and I am so glad that my shitty day ended here, with you, do you understand me?" 

"Fuck." Was his only response and so Sansa took him back in her mouth again and sucked until he spasmed under her and she was swallowing. When he relaxed, Sansa gave one last suck and rocked back on her heels, looking at him warily. He was eyeing her like he wasn't sure what to do with her, so she waited, self conscious that her stomach was bulging or that her eye makeup was running. 

"Is that ok?" She asked, hating herself for sounding so meek, when he failed to say anything after a few moments. 

"You are the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me." He said quietly, more to himself than to her and Sansa flushed red. A moment later, she was again over his shoulder, carting her off to the bedroom. Stranger watched them go, a little defeated that he wasn't going to be petted, before happily settling in on the couch with no owner to order him off it. 

Sandor tossed her down squarely in the center of the large kingsized bed, gazing at her evenly. Sansa took a deep breath, watching him in anticipation, wondering what he was going to do. She didn't expect for him to reach down and almost reverently drag his fingers across her chest, a look of wonder on his face. His careful exploration continued down her stomach, her ribs, her thighs and calves, her collarbones, her neck, the inside of her arms, her fingers, the arches of her feet, the small of her back. It wasn't quite sexual, but it didn't stop Sansa from feeling like she was being caressed by a lover. 

"Sandor." She whispered, and that seemed to jolt him back to the present. 

"I think about you all the time too." He muttered, kissing the inside of her elbow. She wondered when that area got to be so sensitive. "You're always on my mind, fluttering through like a fucking little bird, all the damn time. There's no one like you Sansa Stark. You're one of a kind." He was dropping kisses all along her hips and thighs. "And tonight, you're fucking mine."

She wanted to tell him that she would gladly be his every day of the week, but he was kissing lower and lower, and Sansa felt nothing but bliss. 

 

 

Sansa was actually enjoying herself for once. Margaery had cajoled, guilted, blackmailed, and sweet talked her way into getting them all to come out for a girl's night. It was enough people, as Margaery had more friends, cousins, and coworkers than anyone Sansa knew, that she could text Sandor on her phone frequently and not draw attention to herself. Beside's Brienne, who always saw everything and was more mom than friend at times. Thankfully tonight, she had her hands full with a raucous Arya. 

_'At the Crossroads. Drunk man spilled beer on me.'_

_'Fuck him. Did you fight him?'_

_'No! I am a lady.'_

_'Like hell you are.'_

_'I am you shit!'_

_'Not very ladylike last night.'_

Sansa, alone in a bar, blushed. It wasn't her fault that he was strong enough to hold her in different positions, and it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for them in the bedroom. She was trying to figure out a reply when one of Margaery's cousins - Rose, Daisy, Lily, they were always named after flowers - slid up to the bar beside her and loudly tried to get the bartenders attention, to no avail. She turned to Sansa, clearly frustrated. 

"Well." She said loudly, over the music. "You try." 

"Oh, hold on. Do this." Sansa advised, and took a bill from her wallet, holding it between two fingers while fixing her cleavage to be on maximum display. The bartender came within seconds. 

"Two shots, tequila." The Tyrell ordered and Sansa put the cash down on the bar. "I'll pay you back." She said and Sansa gave a wry smile, knowing that she'd never see her money again. But tequila was fun and when the shots came, she took it and watched in amusement as the girl sashayed back onto the dance floor, ignoring the lingering bartender for her phone. 

_'Shut up, you loved it. Ugh. Tequila.'_

_'What, don't they serve your little dessert wine?'_

_'Don't be mad that you can't have delicious moscato.'_

_'I have delicious whiskey.'_

_'Where are you?! Are you out? What? Unheard of for you, grandpa!'_

_'Watch it little bird. I'm at Kings Landing with the guys. I go out sometimes.'_

Her heart raced for no apparent reason, and she felt rather light headed, though she quickly attributed that to the tequila. Kings Landing was a bar only a couple blocks away. He was only a couple blocks away, sitting in a booth, drinking whiskey, chatting with his friends, occasionally glancing down at his phone and sparing a moment to text her back. He was thinking about her. She wondered what he was wearing. She wondered if he would like what she was wearing, high heels and a thin dress that Margaery had loaned her with an order to wear. 

"Hell." Brienne suddenly collapsed onto a stool next to her and Sansa quickly hid her phone. "What is wrong with your sister? Can you tell me what went wrong with her?" 

"Would you like the list alphabetically or chronologically?" Sansa asked, amused. 

"Just start at the point where she began the whole water dancing thing." Brienne muttered, sliding the bartender money. "Shots. Strong. Doesn't matter what they are, just enough to make me forget." 

"That's an Arya thing." Sansa watched Arya on the dance floor, doing the aforementioned water dancing. It was like no other dance any had seen and she only brought it out when very drunk. "She started doing to as a kid. No one knows why really. But there she goes." 

"Why am I always the mom friend?" Brienne complained, taking the shots and handing one to Sansa. 

"Because you're older, responsible, and generally the nicest?" Sansa reminded her. "And if it wasn't you, it'd have to be me or Margaery."

"Here's to me then." Brienne raised her glass in cheers and Sansa clinked it, swallowing the vodka with a slight flinch. 

"So," She tried her best to play at casual. "Where's Tormund tonight?" 

"Off drinking with some buddies." Brienne looked rather troubled. "Sandor, Bronn, whoever else." 

"What's up?" Sansa asked, her desire to see Sandor quickly overridden with concern for Brienne. "Are you guys fighting? Is everything ok? You were so happy, what happened?" 

"Nothing." Brienne sighed. "That's the thing. We're perfectly happy. So I don't understand why he doesn't propose or something. He's just... Waiting. I don't know what for!" 

"Well, we should go investigate." Sansa said wisely. "I'll go snooping. Tormund loves me." It was true; he'd often explain their ginger kinship, claiming they were both kissed by fire.

"You think that's a good idea?" Brienne asked skeptically. 

"Sure!" Sansa said, with a confidence she didn't feel. "He'll open right up to me. C'mon, I'm sure everyone would be down with going there! Even Daisy said she wanted to go." 

"Who's Daisy?" Brienne's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"You know, Daisy." Sansa gestured to the dance floor at no one in particular. "Looks like Marg, pretty, whatever. We're friends, we were doing shots together! C'mon, let's go." 

"Ok then." Brienne said hesitantly, like she didn't believe Sansa in the slightest. "Let me try to round everyone up then I guess." She watched Arya with particular trepidation. 

"Wonderful." Sansa muttered, stomach tumbling with nerves. 

In the end, it took Brienne what seemed like ages to get everyone out of the bar and into the streets. Then, it was only Margaery's loud laughter that kept them together, down the streets and through crowds, until they finally reached the bar. Sansa looked at the faded sign with its castle, trying to calm her breathing, least anyone see her reaction. They spilled inside, all of them, at once. 

"Finally." Brienne slumped a little, once Margaery was atop the bar, calling for shots. "I didn't know this was going to be so difficult. Remind me again why I came out tonight?" 

"Because Margaery is holding your underwear hostage." Sansa stated and Brienne sighed. 

"Right. Well, I'm going to go say hi to Tormund. I'm sure he'll be thrilled we brought them here." Brienne gestured to Margaery's posse. 

"I'll come with." Sansa said brightly. "Then you can go take care of Arya when she's sick in the toilets, and I'll pick his brain." 

"I don't think I win in this situation." Brienne said dryly, but headed for a corner booth nonetheless. 

"My love!" Tormund bellowed, when they arrived, and Brienne smiled slightly as he scooted out from the table, going to embrace her, but Sansa only had eyes for Sandor, sitting off to the side. He was between Drogo and Bronn and when he spotted her, his grey eyes lit up, though he took a calm sip of his whiskey and didn't say a word. "And lovely Sansa!" 

"Hi Tormund." Sansa slipped into his hug easily, hoping that the action made her skirt rise up in front of Sandor. When she stepped back, she saw his gaze had turned hungry, and knew she had succeeded.

"I'm going to go make sure everyone is alright and pay off whatever damage Marg's done." Brienne told Sansa, smiling slightly. "Then I'll be back." 

"Alright." Sansa said, smiling and Tormund yelled that he had a tab open as Brienne departed. 

"Not going to go with love?" Bronn asked her, his gaze fixed firmly on dancing Margaery and some cousin in a tight blue mini skirt. 

"Nope, I need to talk to someone at this table." Sansa said sweetly, enjoying pretending to ignore that fact that Sandor nearly bolted upright at her words. "Tormund, got a second to chat?" 

"Sure!" He agreed easily and Sansa watched as Sandor's gaze went from from anticipation to confusion and felt like smirking. She had him on tether hooks and she'd only been there for minutes. The boys made room for her in the booth and Drogo offered her a shot from their glasses. Sansa took it at once and slid in next to him, across from Tormund, diagonal from Sandor. She felt his eyes blazing into her skull as she smiled sweetly at Tormund. 

"So Tormund," She began, hands folded demurely in front of her. "How long have you and Brienne been dating?" 

"Damn near three years." Tormund said genially, taking a drink of his beer. He was from northern Canada and his accent amused Sansa. "Why?" 

"I'm just saying, at a certain point, girls expect certain things." Sansa tapped her fingers on the table. "Now, not Brienne, of course. She just adores you for you, and she loves all the things you two do together. Trust me. We share a wall." 

"Nice." Bronn remarked, as Margaery made her way onto the dance floor. "Move you jackasses, I need to go dance." He left the booth and Sansa took his drink without remorse. 

"You gonna tell him she's not all that straight?" Tormund asked her amusement and Sansa frowned at him. 

"Don't change the subject. And she's been drinking vodka. She'll give guys a shot after that. Now. Brienne." She said seriously and Tormund shifted around uncomfortably. 

"Aye, what about her?"

"I just want to make sure you're not going to break her heart." Sansa told him plainly. "Brienne is a goddess amongst women." 

"I know this." Tormund said, sounding uncannily like her younger brother when he was sullen.

"Good." Sansa tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So marry her, before some other guy comes along and sees her for how wonderful she is and your ginger ass gets the boot." 

"So men have to offer up rings to keep a woman? Seems right." Sandor commented, and Sansa's gaze swung to him. He took a deep drink of his alcohol as she appraised him. 

"Not in the slightest." She said easily. "I'm saying that if an object is stagnant, it isn't growing. Relationships need to progress, least they regress back into previous stages." 

"Perhaps the relationship is fine where it is." Sandor countered and Drogo and Tormund were watching them in a mixture of amusement and confusion, as they traded barbs. 

"Sure, it might be." Sansa agreed easily. "But does a wellness check hurt anyone? If Tormund is content and Brienne is restless, doesn't that call for a need for change? To communicate?" 

"Is Brienne restless?" Tormund questioned and was promptly ignored by both Sansa and Sandor. 

"Then why the theatrics? Why not ask outright?" Sandor pointed out and Sansa took a long sip of her stolen drink, glancing up at him through her eyelashes and smirking. 

"Maybe she's shy. Maybe she's unsure. Maybe she wants to be surprised by it, and asking him his intentions would ruin the surprise of knowing that it might be coming. Maybe she's scared that he's going to turn her away." Sansa listed off and Sandor frowned. 

"She should be bold and trust that he wants her." 

"But if he doesn't?" 

"Then he's a goddamn fool." 

"Ok," Tormund cut them off, waving his hands. "Should I be proposing to Brienne or not?" 

"Only if you want to." Sansa snapped back to reality, leaving her verbal foreplay with Sandor. "And only once our lease is up. I do not want to find another roommate that can deal with Marg." They all watched as Margaery sailed past, cheering loudly and wearing Bronn's hat as he followed after her, looking as love struck as a lost puppy.

"Alright." Tormund looked down at his beer like he was lost in thought. Sansa patted his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. 

"Brienne loves you, otherwise she wouldn't bring it up. She just wanted to make sure that you love her too, and that you're not just going to twiddle your thumbs forever."

"Ok..." He said slowly, as Sandor finished off his drink. 

"Well, I'm not here to sit around and chat about weddings." He stated darkly. "I'm going home." 

"Should you be driving?" Drogo asked after a second and Sansa's ears perked up. He'd driven. That meant his car was here. 

"I'm fine." He muttered, tossing money down on the table. "See you both tomorrow then?" 

"Yeah, yeah." Drogo agreed, as Tormund nodded, still lost in his thoughts. Sansa watched as Sandor disappeared into the crowd, before turning back to Tormund and Drogo with a too-bright smile. 

"Well, I should get going too." She stated quickly. "All those girls, someone needs to help Brienne wrangle them. Daisy, you should've seen her earlier, she's a riot! Ok, Drogo, good to see you, make sure Marg doesn't eat Bronn alive please, Tormund, I love you, we can have coffee later if it makes you feel better, ok, have fun, got to go, bye!" She darted away, trying to follow in Sandor's footsteps without making it obvious.

She found him outside in the alley, his car parked in the dark. He sat on the hood, watching her with dark eyes and it wasn't the cool night air that brought goosebumps up all over her skin. Without saying a word, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and took out his keys, eyes on her the entire time. Sansa simply flipped her copper locks over her shoulder without hesitation and quirked one eyebrow. His response was unlocking his car and getting in the backseat without a glance backwards. She followed without hesitation. 

"This fucking dress." He growled as she climbed in. "Do you know how badly I want to fuck you when you wear this dress?" 

"Tell me." Sansa ordered breathlessly, yanking it off herself. "Please tell me, Sandor." 

"You walk into that bar, all legs and tits and I'm half hard before you even get to the table." He muttered, pulling her onto his lap and winding his hand down to run down the inside of her thigh, temptingly slow. She stifled a moan. "Then you start talking and all I can think about is how badly I want you to shut up and suck my cock."

"Someone's impatient." Sansa teased then sucked in a breath when he pulled her panties aside. 

"I am." He nipped her ear and she didn't bother to stop her moan this time. He was an expert in making her scream already and he used one finger, then two, to circle her clit, a slow rhythm that had her whining and trying to grind on his fingers for more friction. He held back though, kissing her neck and using his free hand to trace up and down her side. 

"Please, Sandor." She gasped, hoping that her trick of calling him by his name would work. Usually that pleased him. He gave a huff of quiet laughter in her ear, withdrawing his fingers slowly. She trembled, desperate for him to resume. 

"What do you say, little bird?" He crooned. 

"Please make me come, Sandor." She couldn't see his face but she imagined it was one of wicked satisfaction. He always liked to make her wait. "Please, I want you to make me come." 

"Do you?" He kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder, making goosebumps ripple over her arms. 

"Yes." She breathed heavily. "I want to feel your fingers on my clit, I want you to go slow and take your time. I want you to be patient because you know how wet it makes me, and then I want you to curl them inside me so you can feel me coming on your hand, please. Sandor." 

"Like this?" He did as she asked, slipping his fingers into her wetness. She was already soaking, from his earlier touches, and now it sparked sensations anew with the slickness. 

"Yes, Sandor." She whimpered, her hands gripping his jean covered thighs. "Ah, a little... Faster... Please."

"Faster?" He bit her earlobe and increased his speed marginally. "Like this little bird?" 

"You make me feel so good Sandor." She told him, feeling her hips begin to grow hot and her body beginning to tense with desire. "You make me feel so unbelievably good that I - Fuck, Sandor!" 

She came hard, without much warning, and she cried out loudly. Sandor kept up his pace, whispering something in her ear but Sansa couldn't hear him over the rush of bliss coursing through her. It was like lightning in her veins, making the world go hazy around the edges pleasurably, and she rode out the rest of it with Sandor keeping her pressed firmly to himself. The second the shocks faded, she felt a terrible, aching hollowness and moved herself out of his arms, awkwardly turning about in the cramped backseat. 

"Yes?" His smile was that of a cocky man who knew he'd satisfied his lover. Sansa would be damned if she didn't change that to one of bliss herself and quickly. She gestured for him to pull his pants down. 

"You, Sandor Clegane, inside me, now." She commanded with as much authority she could muster with her neck and calves cramping from her angle. A moment later, his pants were down and he was free. Sansa saw he had not been joking about his situation; he was already hard. She smiled, delighted. That made her plans all the easier. 

She clambered atop him, a little ungracefully with the difficulty of the space confinement, but reached and aligned his tip with her, teasing him with her wetness for a long moment. He moaned and buried his face in her chest, his tight grip on her ribs almost painful. Then not even she could bear it and she slid down him, until he was firmly within her and they both were gasping. When his grey eyes found hers in the low light that filtered down from the lone light in the alley, they had a look in them Sansa had never seen before. 

"Fuck me." It was a whispered plea and so Sansa did as told. She rode him hard and his hands seemed to her in her hair, on her hips, her ass, her back, all at once. He kissed her every chance he got, and then more again. She kissed him back, on his lips and neck and the scarred cheek because she knew he liked it, and when he came, she made sure to cry out his name before kissing him deeply. Then they both went limp, in the backseat, trying to catch their breath. Sansa watched the condensation drip down the window. 

"Take me home." She requested softly and his arms went around her suddenly. 

"And your friends?" He retorted, stroking the nape of her neck and her shoulder blades. 

"I'll tell them I went to another bar with Daisy and then home with a random guy." She said blithely and his arms tightened for a brief moment. "I don't mind keeping this hushed." If he wasn't ready for everyone to know about this, then neither was she. He was worth anything, everything, including waiting and the clandestine meetings. 

When he had arranged her in the passenger seat and they were streaking through the night, his hand firmly on her inner thigh, he finally turned to her and asked, "Who the fuck is Daisy?" 

 

 

"I have to go." Sansa laughed, trying to fight her way out of the covers. Sandor kept a very firm arm around her waist, anchoring her solidly to the bed. She would've had an easier time escaping a straightjacket. "Sandor! I have to go!" 

"Why?" He muttered to her shoulder blade. "Stay." 

"I can't." She collapsed back against him, tired yet amused. He was a stubborn man and when he wanted something, there was no use denying him it. It was easier to give in. But it was nearly time for her to go home. "Lady needs a walk, and Arya will be home soon. They're all going to be home soon, and if I'm not there, questions are going to be raised. About where I am." 

"So lie." He bit her shoulder, gently. "You're rather good at that." 

"I think I'm offended." Sansa twisted to look at him. "It's not a good thing, to be a good liar!" 

"You have a hundred lies about when you're with me." His grey eyes were unreadable. "Make up a couple more." 

"Or you could take Stranger on a walk with me and Lady, and we could say that we went for a walk at the same time and decided to go together." Sansa suggested carefully, intertwining her fingers with his and wondering if she'd gone too far. 

"What do you think boy?" Sandor raised his head to where Stranger lay on the floor. "Walksies?" 

"You're so awful." Sansa laughed, finally getting up. "You give me crap for baby talking Lady, but you're a billion times worse with him. Honestly, you just talk a tough game, Sandor Clegane." 

"Do I?" He watched her get up, a small smile on his face. She liked when he smiled like that, a sweet thing instead of mocking. It was nice, and she so rarely got to see it. 

"You do." She took one of his massive flannels from the floor, pulling it on over her tank top. "I'll meet you in the lobby in 5?" 

"Sure." He caught her hand before she could go, gently tugging her back to him so that he could kiss between her eyes, then kiss her lips softly. She was smiling when he pulled away. "See you then." 

"Alright." Trying to clamp down her giddiness, she winked at Stranger, who was eagerly watching the two humans, tail wagging. "And I will see you for walksies, my precious wittle Stranger-Ranger!" 

"Enough." Sandor's chuckles followed her out of the apartment. She went back to her own, grinning, unable to help herself. This was closer to a real date. So far she'd had sex with Sandor in several semi-public places, and they'd made dinner and breakfast together a couple times. They would Netflix and chill whenever Sansa could get away with it with her roommates, but so far, there had been no talk or suggestion of actual dates. It had seemed like Sandor didn't really care to make whatever they were public, so Sansa was trying desperately to play it cool.

But thing about it was, she didn't want to play it cool anymore. She wanted to be decidedly uncool. She wanted to be demanding and needy and whiny. She wanted to make him put a label on it, and show her off, and displaying her across his social media. But those were just her wants, and she had to keep them locked away. It wouldn't do any good to scare him off. She let herself into the apartment, beaming when Lady bounded from her room into Sansa's arms, eagerly sniffing at Sandor's shirt. 

"Do you want to go hang out with Stranger?" Sansa asked, scratching the top of Lady's head, going to the closet to get the leash. "Do you want to go for a walk, huh, pretty lady? Huh, my baby? Want to go for a walk? Alright, ok." She laughed as Lady spun herself in circles, eagerly panting and furiously wagging her tail. "Ok, hold on, let me get my walking shoes on." She got dressed, trying to avoid being toppled by her excitable dog, pulling on her shoes and braiding her hair back. Then she gave Lady a look. 

Her husky nearly broke down the door. 

"You behave yourself now." Sansa heard Sandor telling Stranger as she stepped out of the elevator. They were waiting in the lobby, Sandor lecturing his dog and Stranger listening intently. Lady practically ripped Sansa's arm off dragging her to the other dog, and a few moments later, they were deeply engaged in a smelling competition with the other's butt. Sansa laughed and looked at Sandor, shrugging. 

"I think they like each other." She said cheerfully and he chuckled, nodding. 

"Ready?" He didn't offer his hand to her, but he had a little smile genuine smile, so Sansa took that as a win. 

"I am." She said happily, and they walked the dogs out the front door and onto the sidewalk. 

They tried to walk along the hill rather than up or down. He recounted his thought process of seeing her that first night, how he'd been in disbelief, but stopped because he knew she was stubborn enough to climb the hill and he wanted to save her a bit of pain. Sansa insisted she usually wasn't so disorganized, and that she wasn't the kind to always leave things at home. He'd had a hearty laugh at that. Then they'd talked a little more about Sansa's family, and funny stories about her roommates. He told her how he met Tormund and his other friends, as well as the story of the time Tormund had been left outside naked by a very, and rightfully, irritated Brienne. 

This was what Sansa liked, even more than the mind blowing sex and his perfect body. She liked when he stopped to laugh, petting Lady and checking the street for cars. She liked when their shoulders bumped and he looked down at her with a lopsided smile. She liked when they walked through busier streets and he placed a hand on the small of her back, making sure that she had enough space. She especially liked when people would double take, looking at her in surprise, then back to Sandor, then back to her. She liked being his. 

They were heading back as the sun set, Lady and Stranger calmer now that they'd been worn out, when a familiar pair appeared in front of them. Sansa froze, nearly falling off the curb she'd been balancing on. Sandor caught her wrist just as the smaller of the pair raised a hand in greeting, walking towards them. Arya and Gendry had gotten back sooner than Sansa had anticipated, and had clearly decided that Nymeria needed a walk of her own. Lady went to greet her sister and Stranger his new friend. 

"Hi guys!" Gendry smiled at them, while Arya simply looked confused. "What are you guys doing out?" 

"Walking the dogs!" Sansa said, a little too quickly. Arya was looking at her with a narrowed glare, one that shouted that she knew something was off here, and she wasn't going to let Sansa get away with it. "You?" 

"Same." Gendry gave her a polite, if not a little confused, smile. "Spent too much time in the car, we all need to stretch our legs, right Ar?" 

"Yeah." Arya said, blinking at Sansa. "Hey, San, is that... Is that Clegane's shirt?" 

"Oh." Sansa sucked in a breath. "Yeah! So funny, actually, I was taking Lady for a walk and we just happened on Sand-- Clegane-- and his dog, what's his name again?" 

"Stranger." Sandor grunted, his face flinty again. 

"Yeah, Ranger, and silly me, I forgot a jacket, so Sandor gave me his and we walked back together!" Sansa gave a nervous, tinkling laugh. "Crazy, right?" 

"Yeah, uh huh." Arya said, unconvinced. "Well, if Nymeria shits in the flowerbeds in front of the Grand again, that crazy blonde chick will throw shit out the window, so we're heading that way. See you at home, San?" 

"Sure." Sansa gave them a too-bright smile. "Have fun!" 

"Ok." Skeptical, Arya led her husky and Gendry away. Sansa exhaled, relaxing. 

"Better get you home then." Sandor seemed angry then, yanking Stranger around from trying to follow Nymeria and Sansa frowned slightly. Was he angry at her? She'd just done what he'd wanted. She'd came up with another lie to keep their secret. That's what they did, didn't they? No one ever had to know? 

"Hey, are you... Ok?" She asked him hesitantly, before they reached the lobby. He gave her one quick glance. 

"Fine. Why?" 

"You seem... I don't know, upset." She ventured. "Did I do something to, you know, make you mad?" 

"Not at all." He didn't look at her. 

"Fine." Sansa stared straight ahead, annoyance creeping up. "Fine then." 

"Oh, are you pissed off now too?" He was actually angry then, all rolling eyes and huffing. 

"Only cause you were!" Sansa stopped on the street corner and looked up at him. "What did I do wrong? You have to tell me or I'm going to keep doing it and making you mad!" 

"You don't make me mad, Stark." He said tersely. 

"Clearly I do, you can't even look me in the eye." Sansa folded her arms and stared him down. "Tell me or I'm not going anywhere."

"It's nothing." He looked down at her with clear irritation in his grey eyes. "Nothing at all, ok? Not a big deal. You don't want to tell anyone about us, fine. I get it. Understandable." 

"Well, yeah." Sansa uncrossed her arms to put her hands on her hips. "I mean, that's what you want isn't it?" 

"What is?" He looked at her with narrowed eyes. 

"Not telling people." Sansa said, throwing her hands up. "That's what it is, isn't it? You don't want our friends to know and stuff, so you just invite me over to hookup when it's convenient, which I'm fine with, but the whole sneaking thing is what you wanted, isn't it? Sneaking around and trying not to get caught? I mean, that's why I'm like your... Your... Side chick." She finished lamely. 

"What?" He peered at her in astonishment. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? I don't even have a main chick, how in the fucking hell would you be my side chick? What are you even saying?" 

"That's why I always lie!" Sansa said desperately. "Because, you know, you don't think our friends will approve or whatever. That's what you said, the first time! That they'd all hate it." 

"That's not what I meant!" He said, strangled. 

"Oh." Sansa stopped and blinked, and it was her turn to look up at him in confusion. "What did you mean, then?" 

"I meant..." He looked slightly abashed, reaching up and scratching the back of his head. "I mean that they'd hate, you know, us being all couple-y. I thought we'd be like Brienne and Tormund with the fucking cooing and shit, but you didn't want that so I thought you were, you know... Ashamed of me. Girls usually are. So you kept hiding me, and I went along with it because, well... Even hidden you is better than no you." He admitted and Sansa was sinking to the ground slowly, her brain completely frozen.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no..." She was muttering, the only thing she could say, over and over. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no... Oh, no... Oh no, no, no, no, no... No..."

"Sansa?" Sandor waved a hand in front of her face. "Did you... Break?" 

"So you mean this whole time that I've been assuming that you were embarrassed to date me because I'm so much younger and Brienne's roommate and all that other stuff..." She said slowly. "You've been assuming that I'm embarrassed to date you because you're older and have a scar?"

"It's more than just a scar." He bristled. 

"So you do want to date me?" Sansa ignored him and he glanced at Stranger, who was licking Lady's face while the husky watched them, patiently waiting to resume their walk. 

"Well, yeah." He said, as though it should've been obvious. "I have since that first party. You brought me a bottle of wine to thank me for hosting and smiled at me, and actually listened to me. You showed me two minutes of sweetness and I was hooked on you forever." 

Sansa had nothing else to say, so she decided the best course of action was to launch herself at him and try to tackle him to the ground so that she could kiss him firmly. 

"So you mean that I fucked you in a car for nothing?" She demanded and he blushed slightly. 

"I mean, I wouldn't mind actually keeping that in our toolbox, if it ever arises again." He asked hopefully and Sansa gave him another kiss. 

"Ok, fine deal." Sansa kissed him again before taking his hand and holding it tightly as they headed back to the apartment building. 

"Does this mean I can take you on a real date?" He asked her, once they'd reached the doors. She looked up at him with delighted surprise. 

"Yeah!" She squeaked, beaming. "Yeah, I would really, really like that." 

"Ok." He squeezed her hand. "Tomorrow. Brunch. We'll go to that fancy place in Fremont, drink mimosas and bloody's?" 

"That sounds like the most amazing first date to not be a first date I have ever heard." Sansa felt like she was already filled with champagne, bubbling over, fizzing and light on her feet. 

"Ok. I'll get you at 9:30?" He asked and she gave him a sly, slow smile. 

"I'll be there at 8." 

"Why..." He trailed off when he saw her wicked smile and grinned appreciatively as they got in the elevator. "Alright, little bird. You want to chirp so early in the morning, so be it." 

"So be it." Sansa said smugly and punched the button for her floor. 

The next morning, she gathered up everything she'd need for the day, carefully sneaking out of the apartment. Even if Sandor wasn't ashamed of her, she didn't want to blurt out their secret alone. At this point, it felt like something they had to share together, or at the very least, something Sansa couldn't just announce on her own. So she left a note saying that she was spending the morning in the office, and made her way up to Sandor's apartment. He'd left the door unlocked and she slipped in, setting her bag on the couch and padding to his bedroom.

She paused in the doorway to smile at him. He slept sprawled out on his stomach, arms under his head, one knee hiked up and hair covering his face. He looked more childlike when he slept, a little less harsh and guarded. Sansa quickly stripped out of her clothes, down to her bra and panties, before climbing under the covers to snuggle next to him. He grunted slightly, staring blearily at her with heavy lidded eyes and she smiled, quickly kissing his nose before wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close. 

"Is it morning already?" He asked sleepily, winding arms around her. 

"It is." She pressed a kiss to his neck before jumping when he pressed his erection to her thigh trying to shift her closer to him. "And apparently you're already awake, aren't you?" 

"Sorry." He muttered, kissing her temple. "Morning." 

"I don't mind." She said quickly, rolling him onto his back. "You know I don't mind at all." 

"Yeah?" He smiled at her as she sat astride him. 

"Yeah." She kissed his nose. "In fact, I'd like to do something about it, if you'd let me." 

"Ok." His eyes lit up in happiness. "Like what?" 

"Like whatever you'd like." Sansa offered and he seemed to mull it over for a moment before grabbing her hips and yanking her up until she was hovering over his face. The tip of his nose just barely touched her panties and she had to stifle a moan. 

"Let's start here." He said confidently and Sansa gripped the headboard tightly. 

"Oh." She said, unable to breathe. "Ok, and do what?" 

"Impatient." He smirked, his fingers trailing up the inside of her thighs. Gentle. Slow. Easy. She quivered, desperately wanting him to go further and knowing that he wouldn't. He was always so meticulous. "You're always so impatient." 

"Ever thought that you're the root cause of that problem?" Sansa quipped and he answered with a slap to her ass. She gasped and in one movement, he'd pulled her panties aside and exposed her to the air. His hot breath tickled her and she squirmed. 

"Sassy." He muttered, his tongue darting out and catching just a tiny bit of her. She ground her teeth in a desperate attempt not to push herself down on his face. "I should put something in your mouth to keep you quiet." 

"After this?" Sansa requested, desperate for contact. "Please? I promise, just... Please... Please." 

"After this." Sandor seemed to like that. "Alright, after that. What is it you want me to do then, little bird?" 

"Make me... Sing." She moaned and he give her just the faintest of kisses, right on her most sensitive spot. 

"Sing?" He did it again and she arched her back, trying to hold still even after her legs began to tremble. "No, not today, my pretty little bird. You're not going to sing today. You're going to scream." With that, he reached up and used her thighs to yank her down onto his mouth. Sansa shrieked as the sensations began to overwhelm her. He seemed to do so much. 

He would swirl his tongue on her clit, making her nearly jerk away from him. Then a moment later he would be sucking, making her head spin. Then it would be the lightest of nips, sparking the pleasurable pain in her. Then he would dip his tongue in her, just enough, pressing hard to her edges before withdrawing again. Sansa had no words for how good it was. She could only whimper and moan, hips shaking from both the effort of keeping her in the air and her orgasm drawing closer and closer. 

He seemed to know, however, each time he was bringing her close. Then he'd back off, letting cool air rush in and made her tighten. It wasn't the sort of inexperience she'd faced before, nor did it frustrate her. It was the exact opposite. He knew exactly how to get her off, how to make her come with the kind of orgasm that would make her feel like she was flying for ages. Sansa thought he rather liked dragging it out, seeing how close he could get her, how much he could make her toe the line before she lost it.

He was flicking her now, his tongue doing sinful things and sending waves of pleasure up and down her body. She was begging him, that this time was the time she'd finally be allowed to come, and he responded by digging his fingers into her thighs and nipping her, just enough to make her scream out his name. Her orgasm slammed into her with enough force she felt like she might pass out, or at the very least, forget her name for several minutes. The aftershocks were nearly as good, making her jolt with each one. 

"Still impatient?" He asked, voice like velvet, when she slipped off him, feeling like all the bones in her body had been turned to liquid. She only managed a weak, dazed smile. 

"No. Very, very satisfied." 

"Good." He kissed beneath her ear then got up. Sansa lifted her head, frowning at him. He yawned, stretching lazily, his glorious abs giving way to his still very hard cock.

"Excuse you." Sansa gave him a pointed look. "Come back to bed so that I can take care of that this instant." 

"How about later?" He suggested with a wicked glint and she sat up a little straighter, looking at him in curiosity. He smiled and walked into the bathroom. "Taking a shower." He called over his shoulder and Sansa scrambled off the bed. She loved when they showered together. He liked washing her hair and it always made her want to melt. 

Once they were showered, they both began to get ready. Sansa liked that the bathroom was big enough for both of them to navigate as she applied makeup and he trimmed up his beard. In her apartment, even with their different schedules, one couldn't do anything without running into the other, and most of Margaery's things exploded from her room and the bathroom into every other nook and cranny of the apartment. Sansa had once found fake eyelashes in her sock drawer, covered in glitter from a party long past. 

She watched him in the mirror as she sat on the counter, applying eyeliner. Occasionally his gaze would flicker over to her and he would break into a little smile, going back to his own routine. Sansa wondered what it would be like on mornings before work. If they would chat about their day, or their plans for later. She wondered what it would be like to do the little things with him. She wondered if she would ever get a chance. When he slid an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head, she prayed she might. 

She'd chosen a light, airy dress for the date, and practical wedge heels. It was the perfect outfit for brunch, one that Margaery herself had even helped picked out and given her stamp of approval on. Sandor, in a light shirt and jeans, waited by the door as she made her her heels were strapped on tightly and that she had everything in her purse. He raised an eyebrow when she finally stood up and smiled at him, tossing her long mane of slightly damp hair over her shoulder. He smiled back, slowly and sweetly. 

"Ready?" She chirped brightly and he chuckled, opening the door. 

"Is this how it's going to be?" He wondered aloud and Sansa shrugged slightly. 

"Depends. You plan on taking me to brunch very often?" She asked him and he laughed, taking her hand. It made ever nerve in her body flutter, especially when he pulled her close. 

"If you like brunch, Sansa Stark, we'll go every goddamn weekend." He promised and she pretended to be lost in deep thought until he looked down at her and frowned slightly. 

"I'm just trying to figure out how you're going to pull off all those brunches when we go camping or traveling." She told him, chancing that it wouldn't be too presumptuous. He laughed outright and pulled her into his side, his hand snaking around to grab her hip and give it a squeeze that made her inside squirm at the memory of the morning. 

"Fine." The elevator deposited them in the parking garage and they began for Sandor's car. "Fine, I'll have to figure out a way to make brunch work. Or you could just feed me breakfast every morning." 

Sansa went red at his implications. 

The drive to Fremont took a little bit longer than usual with the traffic, but Sansa didn't mind. The whole time she had her fingers entangled with Sandor's, earnestly arguing with him about the rising levels of homeless in the city and the best method to provide housing. They were both agreeing that spikes were medieval and cruel when Sandor parked and they got out. 

The brunch place was a refurbished warehouse, converted into a big, airy space with whites and creams with a menu more in french than it was in english. Sandor rolled his eyes and muttered about gentrification, but ordered a Bloody Mary nonetheless. Sansa beamed at the little flowers on the table and the vintage plates, thrifted and restored. Sandor seemed content to watch her, smiling as she want off on tangent after tangent on her job, her roommates, her family, her passions, everything. He sat and listened with a smile. 

They were nearly done with their meal when a disbelieving voice demanded, loudly, "Clegane?" 

Both Sansa and Sandor turned, spotting with mounting horror, Drogo and his girlfriend Dany. Sansa stared at them, astonished. She'd met Dany once or twice at parties, easily identifiable by her platinum pixie cut and her fair skin. Drogo, following behind her, had an easy grin, and Sandor rose to greet his friend, Sansa rising automatically as well. 

"What are you doing here?" Sandor asked Drogo, after they'd done the weird bro-hug.

"Ah, she wanted to check this place out." Drogo jerked his thumb at Dany. "So we decided to make a day out of it, doing weird Fremont shit today. What are you guys doing here together?" He questioned, looking between them.

"Um," Sansa hesitated, looking at Sandor. She wasn't sure if he was ready to break the news either. But she wouldn't lie anymore either, if that was what he wanted. She just wanted to make sure he was happy. "We..." 

"Had really shitty blind dates." Sandor said easily. "Crazy conconindence, right? We both ended up in Fremont and decided that since it hadn't worked out, we'd get something to eat together." 

"Yeah," Sansa's head spun, wondering when he'd came up with such a lie and why. It seemed to be working, since Drogo gave her a pat on the shoulder and Dany graced her with a sympathetic smile. 

"It's tough." Drogo said knowingly. "Just gotta wait for the right one to come along." 

"Yeah," Sansa said, as sweetly as she could muster when Sandor's toe was tracing the arch of her foot. "Just got to keep chugging along, you know? Never know where the right one will be right?" 

"Well, good luck." Drogo clapped his back. "Hey, see you Wednesday for pool night?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Sandor nodded. 

"Alright, sweet man. See you then man. Sansa, always good seeing you!" 

"You too.' She said softly while Dany gave them a little nod before following her boyfriend to a table across the warehouse. Sansa waited until they were out of earshot before hissing at him,

"Still hushed then?" 

"You're right." He was inspecting the check, before inserting several bills in it. "It's got an element of fun to it. Now pretend to say goodbye to me, walk away, and go wait for me in the closet at the end of the hallway." 

"What?" Sansa demanded and when he looked up at her, she saw his eyes were the darkened grey that spoke to only one thing. He wanted her, and he wanted her badly. "I... Ok." She caved with ease, her stomach twisting in excitement. 

"I'll follow you after a couple minutes." He told her and she gathered up her purse, breathless with excitement. She put on a show of pretending to thank him profusely, argue over the check for a long moment, before saying a goodbye that was just past fond friends. Then she went for the hallway he spoke of, opening the unlocked door. The simple closet held excess tables, chairs, decorations, the like. Sansa paced anxiously, each moment stretched out into hours as she waited for him. Then, the door opened and he walked in, carefully inserting a chair beneath the handle. 

"What now?" She questioned, trying to calm her nerves. 

"You did promise later." He said, unbuckling his belt, then his jeans. Sansa snatched a tablecloth off a nearby table, throwing it down and sank down on her knees in front of him. He was groaning before her mouth even touched him. She sucked him much like he had to her that morning, hard and fast, focusing on the areas she knew would be most sensitive. He tangled his fingers in her hair before shoving a knuckle in his mouth to keep himself quiet. That spurred Sansa on like nothing else ever had, and she worked to satisfy him. 

The combination of her movements, the low hum of the workers passing pack and forth outside, and the further, louder clatter of the restaurant beyond had him gasping her name quickly, and she sucked with gusto, digging her nails into his back, in what little bit of skin she could find. It wasn't until she looked up at him that he finally let go and came in her mouth. She was well practiced with this by name, and calmly sucked him off, swallowing with ease and cleaning him up with her tongue. He looked down at her with reverence. 

"Impatient?" She asked him innocently and he grinned as he reached to crush his lips to hers. 

"Best goddamn thing." He whispered, before straightening himself out. "Alright. I'll go get the car. Bring it down a couple blocks. Meet you there. Try to avoid them. It's kinda fun now." 

"Should've been doing it from the beginning." Sansa teased and he chuckled lowly, kissing her ear before undoing the door. 

"Wait." He reminded her, before he slipped out. She counted to one thousand then listened to the door to make sure no one else was coming before easing out. She took the back exit, striding across the pavement. She knew there was no way anyone else would know, but she felt like all eyes were on her, and she put a sexy swing into her walk, smirking. She slid into Sandor's car several blocks away, and they were heading back into the city before she turned to him and took his hand, brow furrowed. 

"You know, out of all the brunch places in this hipster city, they went to one in Fremont?" She shook her head. "The odds of that happening are..." 

"Fuck." He laughed suddenly and Sansa wasn't far behind. For some reason, it was boundlessly funny to them, and all the other had to say was 'Fremont' to set them off again, gasping, tears falling from their eyes. 

"Fucking Fremont!" 

"Brunch!" 

"In Fremont!" 

"Fuck!" 

And then they would dissolve into laughter once again, until Sansa's stomach ached and she couldn't remember the last time she had been so gloriously happy in all her life. 

 

 

"Hey, did you hear?" Arya bounced into her room, grinning. Sansa looked up from her laptop, frowning slightly. 

"What?" 

"Tormund's going to propose to Brienne!" 

"What?" Sansa shrieked, leaping up. "Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't I know? Why didn't he ask me? Why didn't he... Why do you know before me?" She demanded of her. 

"Because he needs my help." Arya told her and Sansa made a noise of betrayal. 

"With what? I am her best friend! I am the one who--"

"It involves fireworks." Arya told her and Sansa relented. 

"Alright. But how the fuck is he going to do it?" 

"Gasworks Park. Tomorrow. He's taking her there, setting fireworks off. Gonna get down on one knee. I'll be in the boat, doing all the work, with the fireworks guys, cause he has to be on shore obviously, and--" Arya was rambling on, but Sansa tuned her out. She had suddenly been hit with an idea. 

"That's nice." She cut her sister off midstream. "And I think the ladies downstairs would like to know. Excuse me, I need to go tell them." Sansa pushed past Arya, heading for the door. 

"You act so weird!" Arya yelled and Sansa ignored her, heading straight for the upper level apartment. 

"Sandor!" She yelled, hammering on the door. She knew he was home, because he always got home in time for his comedy shows, no matter how busy or hectic his day was. 

"Are you dying?" He demanded, yanking the door open. "That's the only reason you should be kicking down my door like that." 

"Brienne and Tormund are getting engaged. Tomorrow." She stated without preamble and he looked at her, then blinked several times. 

"So?" 

"I want to tell people. Then." She said bluntly, before stopping. "I mean... If that's alright with you. It's just, it's getting really hard to come up with lies and I know it's exciting and stuff, but I'm with you and I want to really be with you, you know? Like in front of people and stuff. And if you don't want to, I guess it's fine, but I would like to and... I thought you should know how I felt." 

"Ah." He seemed amused, which she took to be a good sign. "Not because you want to steal Brienne's thunder?" 

"What?" Sansa demanded, before realization dawned. "Oh god. No. I just thought we could go together and people would have questions and that would-- no. No, you're right, terrible idea." 

"I'm kidding." He said hastily. "Tormund's about to put a 3 carat ring on that finger, we would have to be giving birth to a unicorn to overshadow that thunder. Kidding, Stark, kidding." 

"Oh god." She breathed a sigh of relief, then paused. "Wait. 3 carats? 3 fucking carats?" 

"Don't get any ideas." He wiggled a finger in her nose. "That all then? Are you expecting some dramatic proclamation?" 

"From you?" Sansa asked dryly. "Never." 

"Hey." He kissed her. "Play nice, little bird. You coming in for a drink?" 

"No." Sansa squirmed out his grasp. "Arya thinks I'm with the ladies downstairs. She's suspicious as is. I should get back before she comes looking for us. She's got a big mouth." 

"Alright." He smiled at her. "Tomorrow then." 

"Tomorrow." Sansa whispered, before his door slowly shut and she was left grinning. 

And the next night, she and Sandor walked into the park, holding hands. They watched as fireworks rained down, Tormund knelt, Brienne cried, and the diamond sparkled. When everyone's eyes turned to them, Sansa gave Sandor a smile, before he dropped his head down to give her a kiss on the lips. 

No more keeping it hushed. 

 

 

All the other people in my life could never see it but you know me to my core and I know that you believe it.  
You’re the right to my wrong and the rhyme to my reason and you got me feeling all the different kinds of fucking feelings like trust and i got your back like lust there’s no you or me it’s us look no more because you’re cuffed  
On the low we keep it hushed we don’t have to tell a soul that both of us are in it keeping it a secret but i know that you’re committed batter up we’re playing ball and you’ll pitch it and i’ll take a swing i know that you would catch and field it as soon as i would

Ooh i got you on my mind more or less like all the time  
All our friends would hate it but oh my god you’re so one of a kind  
Yeah we keep it on the low no one ever has to know  
We won’t ever say it days apart at night we’re naked

Started an experimental fling telling me guys never really were your thing honey look i’m not asking for a ring wanna play your heartstrings gonna make you sing Gonna lift your spirits when you say you’re feeling blue let you come over and fill your blue pick you up at 8 let you stay late netflix and chill and by chill i mean you’re here for sex  
When we fuck it is the best up at night we get no rest you’ve got this vibe that’s like a high and I guess I feel goddamned blessed 

Ooh i got you on my mind more or less like all the time  
All our friends would hate it but oh my god you’re so one of a kind  
On my wave, you got that flow  
No one ever has to know  
We won’t ever say it keep it hushed I don’t mind waiting.

See you after hours walking to a different bar tinted windows banging in my car  
Got these eyes like you want to fight well come to my house in my bed we’ll spar  
I could take you out to dinner too  
Run into our people and we’ll have to play it cool  
Say oh my god can’t believe it what a strange conconindence  
Then we’ll take a breath and laugh about the way we had them fooled  
Wait just a minute for me please sneak out get down on your knees  
All of my neighbors are hearing you shriek  
Get with the greek and you’re sore for a week

Ooh i got you on my mind more or less like all the time  
All our friends would hate it but oh my god you’re so one of a kind  
Yeah we keep it on the low  
No one ever has to know  
We won’t ever say it days apart at night we’re naked 

Keep it hushed I don’t mind waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, so much smut. Leave me shameless reviews, let me know what works and doesn't? (seriously, it's super duper helpful)
> 
> I'm on tumblr at https://raginglittlehurricane.tumblr.com if you want to follow me over there!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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